


The Kind of Eyes That Drive Wolves Mad

by CosmoKid



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Halloween Costumes, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Stiles Stilinski is a Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 20:14:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12565300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmoKid/pseuds/CosmoKid
Summary: Stiles is finally being invited to his first high school party alongside Scott. It would be cool if it wasn’t a Halloween party and if he hadn’t agreed that Lydia could choose his costume.Granted, when he’d agreed to it, he had reason to. Lydia is good at costumes so his decision was a good decision.Or it was until Lydia announced he would be going as Little Red Riding Hood two hours before the party starts so he has no choice but to either go as Little Red Riding Hood, go as Stiles Stilinski or not go. And this is his first ever high school party, he can’t not go and he is not going to be the spoilsport that doesn’t dress up, which is why he’s currently sat on some knackered sofa in a barn dressed as Little Red Riding Hood.Or in which Lydia dresses Stiles up as Little Red Riding Hood for a Halloween Party so he matches with Derek's werewolf costume.





	The Kind of Eyes That Drive Wolves Mad

**Author's Note:**

> i started this thinking it would be like 1k and now it's this
> 
> also this entire thing happened because i watched a five hours livestream of building a haunted barn in the sims

Stiles will be the first to admit that he doesn’t really know what one does at parties.

He’s the Sherriff’s kid, he doesn’t get invited to parties. Everyone’s scared his Dad has some mobile tracker on him or that he’ll phone his Dad and break up the party so the possibility of getting an invitation to one of the actual cool kids parties is miniscule. And so, Stiles has no idea what to do when he’s actually invited to a party.

It’s never been a problem for him, really. Knowledge about the correct behaviour for parties is pretty superfluous when the wildest thing you’ve ever done on a Friday night is staying up until five in the morning playing Half Life 3 with Scott or tagging along with your Dad to crime scenes. And there are never any good crime scenes in Beacon Hills. Nothing ever happens here.

Until Scott gets picked for an experimental trial for Asthma junior year and it becomes 90% better and suddenly his best friend is actually on the team for lacrosse. Until his best friend actually plays with the team on the field against other teams. Until his best friend is being acknowledged by Lydia Martin and gets a girlfriend. Until the popular people at the school start sitting at his lunch table because Scott’s at it. Until his life suddenly becomes the plot of a shitty teen movie.

Well, not all the popular people. The popular people who would be considered the JV jocks, the varsity jocks and the plastics if they went to school with Regina George and Cady Heron. There’s still the popular people who are more infamous than famous who, thank fuck, aren’t choosing to sit with Stiles and Scott at lunch.

If Derek Hale started sitting with him at lunch, his head might actually explode.

The guy is just so attractive. His face looks like it was chiselled by the Gods as a blessing to mankind and he has abs made of steel. And his eyes are so beautiful; there are so many flicks of different hues of green and blue and gold in there and he’s just so attractive. It’s the absolute worst. Especially with his stubble that seniors just shouldn’t be allowed to have and the tight, black skinny jeans and leather jacket he always wears. He’s the human equivalent of a wet dream and everyone is _always_ talking about him because of his ‘bad boy’ persona.

He’s known for drinking in bars every night and riding his motorcycle thirty miles over the speed limit and apparently he smokes, although Stiles has no idea if there’s any truth to any of it. He hopes the smoking thing isn’t true because smoker’s breath would ruin his fantasies. He also glowers at everyone but his little group that look like a motorcycle group and argues with teachers and punched a locker once. 

All in all, his table becoming the popular table overnight is not the absolute worst. Yeah, he hates most of the jocks who’ve invaded his table and like to play sober beer pong with their water bottles and fruit and literally never shut up and talk so loud that Metallica would shush them like a scary librarian. And the weird pushing each other on the seat thing they do, which he assumes is a way for them to assert their dominance to appease their fragile masculinities, is possibly the most infuriating thing about it. That title might go to Jackson Whittemore though, who was Stiles’ biggest bully in elementary and middle school, and is still a complete and utter dick, especially since his face is so perfect and he gets actually decent grades. And the cheerleaders, who are either actually that stupid that Charles Darwin would rethink his theory of evolution if he met them or are just super determined to stick to that roleplay of the cliché cheerleader in almost every teen movie ever, make him want to cry. One of them asked him how to spell blue the other day and yelled at him because apparently there’s not an ‘E’ in there. Yeah, okay it is kind of the worst. 

Sitting with Lydia Martin isn’t that bad though. He gave up on his hopeless crush on her sophomore year and accepted her as his only opposition for valedictorian other than maybe Danny who is one of the only jocks he can stand. He and Lydia can talk for hours now that she’s given up on pretending to be an airhead. They mostly quiz each other on all their AP classes, trying to catch each other out. Or sometimes they talk about recent documentaries they’ve watched or have entire conversations in Morse code or Archaic Latin. They have normal conversations occasionally as well. 

And Scott’s new girlfriend is pretty cool too. He doesn’t get to talk to Allison much since her and Scott are so enamoured with each other, Stiles is seriously considering the idea that he’s been transported to a magical parallel world where his entire life is a teen movie. The two of them are either kissing, staring into each other’s eyes, laughing at the other’s jokes that really aren’t funny or just talking to each other about how much they like one another until Stiles wants to take a nail gun to his head. Still, on the off chance that he’ll actually talk to Allison, he knows she’s cool. She’s also ranked nationally in archery which is cool, but weird. She’s basically a perfect match for Scott.

So yeah, it’s not the worst. He’s pretty sure Jackson hates him more than he hates Jackson and the inundation of followers on his various social medias is cool. There’s finally someone other than Scott to appreciate his super obscure references and puns on his Snapchat story. He also has someone to have his super intellectual conversation with since Lydia indulges him, even if it is an entire conversation about whether or not you could apply pseudoscience to Spongebob Squarepants because they finished their AP Biology work half an hour earlier than the rest of the class. And Scott is happy which is cool.

But then there’s also the fact that it’s now been two months since they’ve sat together and Stiles is finally being invited to his first high school party alongside Scott. It would be cool if it wasn’t a Halloween party and if he hadn’t agreed that Lydia could choose his costume.

Granted, when he’d agreed to it, he had reason to. He’d been roped into judging the costumes she’d picked out alongside Danny since they’re the ‘only ones able to be objective about the female body’ which is just hilarious since Stiles is still very into girls alongside guys, but okay. His judgments had been that Lydia was really good at picking out Halloween costumes. 

For Allison, Lydia chose a Robin Hood costume that comprises of a tight green dress that reaches mid-thigh and black tights with knee high leather boots. There’s a leather vest that goes over the top of the dress and a hood that Allison chooses not to wear. He doesn’t know who did the fishtail braid that cascades down on one side of her face, but it looks freaking awesome. There’s a selection of unnecessary belts that look cool and minimal makeup other than dark red lipstick. Allison has her actual bow and quiver with her. He’s fairly certain the arrows are fake, but he doesn’t blame her if they’re real since they’re about to be surrounded by drunk high schoolers. 

Lydia’s costume is what he assumes is a sexy witch costume. It just reaches the top of her thigh and is mostly black with a purple detail on the front with a plunging neckline. She’s wearing black stockings with black boots that end just before the knee and curl up at the toe. She wears what should look like a tacky witch hat, but actually looks super cool and places a wand in her bag that just sticks out. She wears slightly sparkly eyeshadow with a cat eye and a dark burgundy lipstick. 

She chooses an assortment of sexy pirates or cats or mermaids or other cliché costumes for the rest of the cheerleaders that she takes photos of that also look super cool. He ends up just nodding and praising Lydia while Danny gives actual feedback because he has no idea about fashion or Halloween costumes or whatever this counts as. He purposefully wears baggy jeans and far too many layers to disguise the fact that if he’d look worse if he actually made an effort with his clothes. Lydia, on the other hand, is the Batman of fashion clearly.

So logically, he agreed to let her choose his costume. It was on the basis that Lydia would choose a good costume and that he wouldn’t look stupid. She helped Danny choose his and he looks awesome in his Jon Snow costume and she definitely chose costumes for Jackson and Scott who look good in their respective King and Robin costumes. And he has to give her kudos for choosing Robin Hood for Allison and Robin for Scott. Lydia is good at costumes so his decision was a good decision.

Or it was until Lydia announced he would be going as Little Red Riding Hood two hours before the party starts so he has no choice but to either go as Little Red Riding Hood, go as Stiles Stilinski or not go. And this is his first ever high school party, he can’t not go and he is not going to be the spoilsport that doesn’t dress up, which is why he’s currently sat on some knackered sofa in a barn dressed as Little Red Riding Hood. 

And it’s not even a tacky Little Red Riding Hood costume he could play off as a joke. It’s the kind of costume that’s only a few alterations away from fitting right in in a fairytale themed porno, not that he’s ever watched one or at least admit to have watched one. He’s a teenage boy in high school, he has an excuse.

This is the first time he’s ever worn a dress and he’s surprisingly okay with it. What he isn’t okay with are the heeled (and yes Lydia, kitten heels are still heels) boots he’s wearing because he’s still struggling to walk in them. Funnily enough, he’s still not broken them in. The dress itself has a dark red skirt that reaches mid-thigh with a white top and a black lacy corset thing. It was actually designed for people without breasts which was a nice surprise for him. He has a white apron tied around his waist that goes over the skirt and actual fishnet tights on. The red hood is velvet and he’ll never admit it, but it actually feels really nice around the top of his arms and his neck. He did have a basket, but he left it somewhere. Lydia actually lined his eyes with eyeliner and she put something on his lips that make them a little more red. It’s not lipstick, he knows at least that, but he’s not sure what it actually is. 

Lydia’s sat next to him, curling up on the sofa and only looking slightly disgusted by the quality of everything around him. And by quality, he means grunge. The party is in an old barn with a bunch of crates all over the place and there’s loads of gnomes all over the place which he isn’t even going to ask about. She sat him down as soon as they got there telling him that they’re not dancing until there’s a reasonable crowd dancing because that’ll make them look cool or something. He’s fine with that since he’s not planning on dancing at all since he’s pretty sure he’ll look like a bundle of awkward flailing limbs if he tries. 

They’re making small talk as he tries to find a position that makes him feel less exposed. Dresses are reasonably comfortable, but he feels so exposed in it. At least he’s not the only dude in a dress, there are a couple of other dudes dressed in assortments of costumes from Cinderella to a fairy to a really good Marilyn Monroe.

“Stop fidgeting, you’re making too many boys sexually confused,” Lydia says casually and rolls her eyes when he splutters and shakes his head. She huffs and subtly points to one of the kids on the lacrosse team who’s staring straight at Stiles with wide eyes and a wide mouth. He shudders at the look a raises his eyebrows, looking at Lydia. “Look to the left a few feet and you’ll find another jock and oh, look back to the right several feet and there’s another guy. He sits right behind you in AP Chem, I’m sure those lessons are going to be much more interesting for him now.”

He follows her instructions, trying to look as subtle as possible and probably failing, and shudders two more times as he comes to the conclusion that she’s right. He chews his lip and avoids making eye contact with any of them and anyone else in the party. “Is that why you dressed me up like this? To see how many closeted boys there are at the school?”

“Of course not,” she says and crosses her legs, placing her hands in her lap. “And they’re not in the closet if they haven’t realised it yet.”

“They’re still in the closet if they’re not out. If they’re not openly gay or bi or pan or whatever, they’re still closeted,” he argues and leans back on the sofa a little, still fidgeting. Mostly just to irritate her now.

“You can’t be in the closet if you don’t know there’s a closet to be in,” she says and purses her lips. She quirks one perfectly manicured eyebrow and cocks her head slightly. It’s the look she always gives him when she challenges him; it’s almost permanently stuck on her face when they’re quizzing each other about AP classes.

“Yes, you can. You can easily be something without knowing it or knowing that it exists. Javert doesn’t realise he’s the villain until right before he commits suicide, arguably,” he says and she just shrugs a little, her lips pressing into a line. He grins at it, she always has that look when she loses an argument. It’s a resigned look, not an admittance. “And anyway, if that’s not your goal, what is?”

“ _That_ ,” Lydia starts and her eyes flicker over to the corner where Derek Hale is standing with his back to them. He’s leant against the wall, talking to Erica Reyes who’s dressed as Tinkerbell. Her heels are impossibly high and he hasn’t watched Peter Pan in a while, but he’s pretty sure Tinkerbell doesn’t wear blood red lipstick. Derek’s in ripped jeans and a ripped white t-shirt which is disappointing, but not surprising. He had suspicion that Derek Hale wouldn’t dress up. Lydia smirks when she catches him staring and says in a sweet voice, “Is my goal.”

He raises his eyebrows at her and frowns. This doesn’t sound good, he doesn’t know what she’s planning, but it doesn’t sound good. “He’s not even in costume.”

“It’s interesting that you assume I’m talking about him and not her,” she says and holds a finger up before he can protest. He learned from Danny that she’s wearing acrylic nails and he honestly thinks that she could kill someone with them and all their violet glory. “Wait until he turns around.”

“What-”

She interrupts him in an exasperated voice, “Wait.”

Rolling his eyes, he waits. He entertains the idea of overdramatically staring at Derek just to spite Lydia, but decides that he doesn’t really want to potentially anger the guy who left a dent in a locker once. It’s still there; Scott has the locker next to it. So he tries to look as subtly as possible, keeping his head in Lydia’s direction and only glancing towards the two of them in the corner. It takes a good thirty seconds before Derek’s head turns around for a second. He glances around for a bit before his eyes lock on the two of them.

“Oh, he’s a werewolf,” he says lamely and looks at Lydia again. Derek’s got red contacts in with fake fangs and claws. He’s still staring at the two of them and Stiles can feel a blush grow onto his face at it. “How does that link to your goal?”

Lydia huffs and glares at him. “Do I have to spell it out for you, Stiles? Here I thought you were my only competition for valedictorian.”

“I _am_ your only competition for valedictorian,” he says and rolls his eyes again. He can still feel Derek’s eyes on his. He rearranges himself again, curling up on the sofa as he tries to feel a little less uncomfortable. “Ooh look, our costumes match. That still doesn’t explain your goal.”

“Honey, I’ve seen the way you look at him,” she says with a smirk and pats his arm. “And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’m just speeding up the process.”

“I doubt he even knows I exist, Lydia. The way he looks at me is the way he looks at the majority of the student body: with boredom, disdain and indifference,” he deadpans and clasps his hands together. “It’s good to know that even the prettiest and smartest of girls have delusions too.”

“I’m not deluded, Stilinski. Far from it. Boys can’t be subtle,” she tells him and taps his nose. His face scrunches up and he wiggles away from her a little which just makes her smirk.

“Isn’t that a little sexist?” he asks and smiles at her innocently. 

“It’s not sexist, it’s a criticism of society as a whole. In general, girls are taught that they’re emotional, but that it’s bad to have emotions so we learn how to hide them. Boys aren’t taught about emotions at all so you never learn how to hide them,” she explains and purses her lips. She reaches over to mess with his hair a little which he’s just resigned to. “Open your mouth like I said something shocking.”

He stares at her plainly and purposely keeps his mouth closed. He looks smug and just shrugs as he leans further back into the couch. 

She scowls and rolls her eyes at him again. She laces her fingers together and smiles at him like she’s ready to kill him. “Did I stutter? Open your mouth like I said something shocking before he looks away.” 

Rolling his own eyes, he dramatically opens his mouth before sighing. She grins, letting her eyes flicker around the room. “Perfect. Your mouth becomes almost pornographic when you do that, and this is coming from someone who has no sexual attraction to you at all.”

He raises his eyebrows and his mouth falls open for real this time. That was unexpected.

“Don’t overdo it,” she says and tuts, but she smirks. She pushes herself up from the couch and stands up gracefully, holding her hand out for him. “Now, let’s go dance.”

“Yeah, no,” he says and shakes his head. “I don’t dance.”

“Yes, you do,” she says and grabs his hand, forcefully pulling him up.

“I can’t dance, Lydia,” he says and she just sighs, rolling her eyes. “I can’t. You’ve seen me move, I’m a flailing mess of limbs and I fall over at least once a day.” 

“Yes, you can,” she says and huffs. Her grip on his wrist tightens and she walks towards the dance floor, digging her nails in when he doesn’t follow.

“Ow, ow, Jesus Lydia, I’m coming,” he exclaims and follows her to the dance floor. She pushes through the crowd to get into the thick of it and pauses, turning around and placing her hands on his waist.

“Okay, listen Stiles. Everyone can dance. Listen out for the beat and move your hips with it,” she tells him and demonstrates her point by moving her own hips to the beat of the song. He doesn’t even know what song it is and he just stares blankly at her. “When you’re dancing, you lose gender and sexuality. It doesn’t matter if you’re gay, straight, pan, bi, ace or whatever. You dance with whoever’s nearby. You grind on boys, girls, everyone in between and everyone out of the binary. If a dude grabs your hips, you dance with him. If a girl presses her breasts into you, just keep dancing unless she gets a bit touchy. The only time any of this matters if you’re trying to attract someone, which you are.”

“Who am I trying to attract?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at her. 

“Who do you think?” she questions, sounding exasperated. “Are you going to dance or not? Follow my movements?”

He frowns, but watches her, hesitantly moving his hips with hers. She grins, pressing nearer to him and moving his hands to her hips and wrapping her own arms around his neck. He moves with her, entirely too aware of his surroundings.

“People are going to get ideas if we keep dancing like this," he warns her quietly and raises his eyebrows. He licks his lips, purposefully moving his hips with hers still.

“Please, everyone and their mother knows that Jackson’s the only one for me,” she says and purses her lips. She moves an inch nearer as the song changes to a more upbeat tune.

“What if Jackson gets ideas?” he questions and smirks. He lets loose a little more, feeling less stiff and awkward.

“Honey, Jackson won’t get ideas,” she says and moves a little nearer to whisper in his ear, “See, we have an agreement, Jackson and I. We date and people talk about us more. The more people talk about us more, the more power we have. I don’t have to like him and he doesn’t have to like me, people just have to think we do. He doesn’t care who I dance with, who I kiss and who I fuck as long as I pretend to be in love with him in public. Love is a game in high school.”

She smirks and pecks him on the cheek before leaning away a little. She untangles one hand and reaches to smudge what he assumes is a lipstick mark on his face.

“Okay, calm down Juliet,” he says. She just raises one eyebrow and retangles her hands around his neck.

“Who I fuck is exactly how I know that you and Derek Hale would be perfect together,” she murmurs and he can barely hear her voice over the loud thumping of the music. “Do you know what Derek’s type is, Stiles?”

“Silent and immobile?” he suggests and she just sighs. “How do you even know he has a type?”

“Because Cora Hale has very talented fingers and isn’t half bad company,” she says simply. 

He knows Cora, she’s in their AP literature and AP algebra class and in his economics class. She seems pretty cool and has absolutely no interest in putting on a show for everyone like Lydia does despite her various leather garments and dark clothes. She wears mostly skinny jeans with band tees and beat up converse and you wouldn’t know that the Hale family are wealthy if you only knew her.

“Did you know who Derek’s last real girlfriend was?” Lydia asks and he shakes his head. Derek’s not that attractive that he’s researched his past flings. He has read his arrest report though, but that was more curiosity than obsessive crushes. “Paige Krasikeva. Smart, quick-witted, talented. Pale skin with brown eyes and hair and a beauty mark. Cora said Derek liked her because she challenged him. Sounds like someone else, doesn’t it?”

“I’ve never once challenged Derek Hale, I value my life,” he tells her plainly.

“You challenge me, you challenge Jackson and you challenge Harris,” she tells him and he just rolls his eyes. He challenges her because that’s how their conversations go; he challenges Jackson because Jackson is an egocentric dick who needs to be challenged to tame his ego; he challenges Harris because Harris is that special kind of asshole who likes to torture his students. “Deny it all you want, but we both know you’d challenge Derek Hale and that he’d like it.”

He raises an eyebrow at her, but doesn’t reply. She grins and untangles her arms from around his neck and steps away from him. “Good. Now, I’m going to find Jackson so no one gets any ideas. You stay there and dance. If you don’t tell me about you and Derek in something more than a fantasy tomorrow, I’ll be disappointed.”

She takes one step backward and turns on her heel, stalking out of the crowd before he can speech. After a few seconds of staring after her, he just shrugs and continues to dance. He’s not a good dancer, he knows it, but he loses himself in the music after a few moments of awkward dancing. He closes his eyes as he moves, focussing on moving with the music. True to Lydia’s word, he does end up dancing with people of all genders and does end up grinding on some random guy who might be in his economics class.

He doesn’t know how long it is before he feels strong hands grip his hips and a growly voice whisper in his ear, “Do you have any idea how delectable you look?”

Shit. He knows that voice, that’s Derek Hale’s voice. Lydia was right. Shit.

Biting his lip, he hums and presses against Derek whose body is like a wall of muscles. “Tell me.”

“The things I want to do to you,” Derek murmurs in his ear and Stiles rolls his hips, pressing closer to him. Derek, honest to God, growls behind him and his mouth latches onto his throat. He bites his lip to silence a groan when he realises that it’ll leave a mark.

“You’re the alpha werewolf, huh?” he asks, trying to make his voice sound as husky as possible. He slowly turns around in Derek’s arm and smiles innocently. “Gonna make me your bitch?”

Derek’s eyes darken as he stares at Stiles. He takes a step toward Stiles who takes a step backward, continuing to smile innocently at Derek. His back hits the wall, making him jump a little that makes a small smirk grow on Derek’s face. He hadn’t realised he was so near to the wall, but he’s not complaining when Derek places one hand against the wall next to Stiles’ head, caging him in. 

“God, look at you, Little Red. You’re so pretty,” Derek murmurs and he cocks his head and just stares at Stiles. He can’t help the blush that spreads over his cheeks at the attention. He bites his lip and continues to stare up at Derek who makes another sound like a growl. “Imagine how pretty you’d look with my cock in your mouth.”

“Want me on my knees for you? Gonna pull my hair and force me to choke on your cock until you come down my throat?” he asks, licking his lips. Derek just presses impossibly nearer, forcing his leg between Stiles’ legs. His free hand moves to touch one of Stiles’ legs under the dress, caressing it softly. “I’d swallow it all, just for you, alpha. Let you fuck my mouth.”

Derek looks at him for a second before his mouth is on Stiles’ and his hands move to cup his ass. He kisses back fiercely, reaching up to tangle his hands in Derek’s hair. The fake claws dig into his ass and he just whimpers and he feels Derek smirk against his mouth. For a first kiss with Derek, it's pretty fucking magical. Derek kisses like he's demanding Stiles yield to him and he's all too willing to abide. 

“Fuck, Stiles,” Derek whispers when he pulls away. His hands move to Stiles’ hips again, pulling him nearer. “I’m gonna fuck you, hard. Until the only word you remember is my name.”

He grins and untangles his hands form Derek’s hair. He widens his eyes so he looks more innocent as he leans up to whisper in Derek’s ear, “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Wha-” Derek stars as Stiles pulls away. He takes Derek’s momentary confusion to wiggle out of his hold and backs up a little.

“At least buy me dinner first,” he repeats and smirks at Derek who just watches him with burning eyes. “Unless you don’t want to fuck me into a matress and make me your bitch?”

Derek growls again at it again, making him laugh. He turns it into an innocent giggle just to fuck with him. Derek stares at him and coughs a little before speaking, “Tomorrow, seven. I’ll pick you up from your house.”

He nods and juts his lip out a little before he turns around. He pushes through the dancing crowd and heads out into the night air. He grins and decides that Lydia is definitely good at costumes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :)
> 
> Happy Halloween!
> 
>  
> 
> come scream with me on [tumblr](https://cosmo-k-i-d.tumblr.com/)


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